Stronger Than The Past
by Her Ghost Eyes
Summary: "A true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart." Draco finds forgiveness in the oddest of places. Written for the ottersandferrets challenge.


Written for the DMHG ottersandferrets challenge at dramionechallenge | tumblr

Based very (_very_) loosely on Hercules.

A fair bit of OOC, so if you don't like that sort of thing, then I don't recommend this. As usual, I own absolutely nothing.

Enjoy!

ooo **  
><strong>

**Hera:** You were willing to give your life to rescue this young woman.  
><strong>Zeus:<strong> For a true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart.

- **Hercules, _Disney _**

ooo

Draco paced, glancing down at his watch every couple of seconds. The sky was blackening, and clouds had gathered in a mass of threatening gloom. It was going to rain, that much was obvious. He'd be damned if it did so on _him. _

Watching the clouds dance around each other and checking his watch yet again, he had to face the fact that his girlfriend would not be coming tonight. Or ever.

Slipping his phone from his pocket and fiddling with the buttons - he never had quite gotten used to this ridiculous Muggle inventions - he dialed Astoria's number and waited impatiently for the ringing to stop. His phone hand shook, much to his horror, and he sat heavily down on the bench outside the theater. To his left, a couple passionately sucked each other's faces off, completely ignoring him. To his right, an old man was playing a painfully cheesy love song on guitar.

"Stor?" he murmured into the phone. He was met with a moaning and a particularly passionate moan of 'Merlin, fuck me, now'. Strangely, Draco had a feeling those words were not directed to him.

Or Merlin.

At least, he sure hoped not.

He'd never really liked her anyway, he reminded himself. But she had been excellent in bed, and he hated to see a good opportunity pass him by.

There was a muffled sound and the phone beeped in complaint, before signifying that it had been switched off. "We're done," he said sharply after the answering machine bleeped loudly in his ear, and hung up.

Next, he dialed Blaise's number and muttered, "It's over."

He murmured groggily, having apparently having just woken up, "It's over?"

"It's over," Draco confirmed resolutely, sneering at the passionate couple to his left.

The man playing guitar began a heartfelt rendition of 'Why Does It Always Rain On Me', as, almost as if prompted, the skies opened and it began to hammer it down with rain.

"Well," he heard Blaise say as he ran for cover, "I guess you'll be needing a new place."

ooo

Draco groaned. "No," he said, staring at the apartment door with distaste. It wasn't the apartment so much - no, the apartment was fantastic, actually. It was fully furnished, and his fridge didn't talk back to him like his old one (Thanks, Pansy). It was homely, yet stylish. Sort of like Draco.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "I thought you'd be _over _this by now, you fuckwit." He opened the door and let himself into the apartment, admiring the colour of the walls and how they contrasted with the sofas. He also paused to look at a painting of Paris that had been artfully placed in the lounge, entranced with its beauty.

"You are the biggest ponce I've ever met," Draco mumbled as he followed his friend into the apartment.

Blaise smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Why are you so opposed to this apartment anyway?" he demanded, sorting through boxes. "It's brilliant."

Draco shot him a look. "I'm not an idiot, you know, Zabini," he called over his shoulder as he went to check the fridge was definitely unmagicked by insulting it rather profusely. "I know who lives next door."

Blaise, apparently, was rather enjoying himself. His smirk grew wider. "Who, pray tell, lives next door?" He was shuffling through the next box now, probably looking for anything of value or any secretly hidden nude photos of himself.

A voice made its way through the wall; a soft, feminine voice that would have made Draco's shackles go up, if he had any. Which he didn't, just for the record.

"I can't _believe_ him."

"I know!" agreed another familiar voice. "You'd think men would know better than that by now." There was the clacking of heels down the hall, and Blaise craned his neck around the wall to try and get a better look.

The other voice humphed their agreement. "But honestly! 'Oh, I'm a massive fan of yours!'" There was a sniff of disdain. "What if that's all boys want me for? My fame?"

"Your looks, too," commented the other voice.

There was a scuffle, and collective laughter.

Draco's nose crinkled in distaste as he turned back to Zabini. "Hermione Granger."

ooo

He managed to avoid confrontation for a whole week. It was a surprisingly peaceful week - he ignored every voicemail from Astoria, occasionally got home from work and got completely smashed off his face to vent his inner turmoil (he didn't really have any inner turmoil, but any reason to get drunk sounded good to him)

He got home Friday night to an empty flat and sat down on the leather couch to watch a good game of cricket (he actually hated cricket, but it was better than Days of Our Lives or America's Next Top Model)

"Fuck! Shit, fuck!"

Draco frowned at the TV, wondering if they always swore this much on the cricket. It didn't really appear to be a very passionate game, to tell the truth. He could be more exciting with a ball of string and some Fire-whiskey.

"Oh, bollocks!"

He also wondered if the cricket commentators always sounded so much like Hermione Granger.

"MERLIN'S BEARD, YOU STUPID PIECE OF-"

The shout scared him so much he jumped, knocked the coffee table over, and fell with it, hitting the floor with a bang. Scrambling (gracefully, of course, because a Malfoy was always graceful, even when scrambling) to his feet, he shot out the door and barged through Granger's door.

Okay, so maybe he just used Alohomora, but 'barged' sounded so much more dramatic.

He leaned against the door frame, an eyebrow cocked. "So, do you always go around insulting kitchen appliances or is this just an off day?"

She spun around so fast she appeared to experience vertigo and nearly fell over, clutching the microwave for support. She then proceeded to glare at it furiously. Better it than him, Draco decided.

"I heard you'd moved in," she said slowly, running her wand between her fingers in a way that made Draco want to duck for cover, "but I thought Ginny was just having me on." She didn't take her eyes off the microwave the whole time, as if at any moment it might jump out and attack. "I got this new microwave, and it wouldn't work properly, so I hexed it." She sighed heavily. "And now it won't _work_!"

Draco moved past her carefully, bringing out his wand, and whispering an incantation for healing. Sure, it wasn't exactly accurate, but microwaves weren't that different to real people. Right?

"Oh, thank God," the microwave murmured with relief, "I thought you were going to leave me like that." There was a beeping sound, and the numbers flashed 00:00.

Hermione screeched, diving backwards.

Draco wondered if he was forever cursed when it came to kitchen appliances.

If the microwave had eyes, it would have rolled them. "I'm only a talking microwave," he said exasperatedly. "God, it's not the end of the world."

Granger straightened, watching the microwave with trepidation. "Malfoy," she said slowly, "my microwave just spoke."

"Really?" he shot back sarcastically. "I didn't notice a thing." Walking forward, he grabbed the forgotten glass of milk Granger had apparently been attempting to warm up and placed it in the microwave.

The microwave hummed its contentment. "Oh yeah," it hissed, "that's good."

Granger seemed to shake off her shock and turned on Draco. "My microwave just _spoke_!" she screamed. "I don't know if this is part of some ploy of yours, but - but _fix _it! I JUST BOUGHT THAT MICROWAVE!" She watched the microwave as if mourning an old friend, her hands thrown up in exasperation.

"Granger," Draco said tiredly, "it's 6PM on a Friday night. Fix it in the morning." He turned to go.

His neighbour remained dutifully silent. Which was odd. Because Hermione Granger _never _remained silent, especially not when she'd just had her microwave magicked.

He was up to his door when he heard footsteps behind him. Granger leaned against the wall next to his apartment, grinning. "I am not watching America's Next Top Model with that _appliance _commenting on everything," she murmured, following him into his apartment. "Until you fix it, you're going to have to put up with me."

Draco groaned. "This is why I shouldn't listen to Blaise," he muttered, but he followed her in anyway.

ooo

"Can you _believe _Louise?"

Hermione nodded vigorously, ponytail bobbing. She huddled down further into the coach, her eyes intent on the screen. "I _know_," she cried. "I mean, seriously. You can't just go around having sex just after you broke up with your ex! It's - it's wrong!"

Draco sighed. "What a whore," he murmured in agreement as the show went to credits. He turned to look at his neighbour. She looked the picture of innocence on his sofa, complaining about trashy TV shows. Her microwave had been fixed weeks ago - Pansy knew the counter-curse off by heart, Draco didn't dare ask _how_ - but they'd still kept up these impromptu meetings, Merlin only knew why.

Draco had to admit, they were sort of...fun. _Granger _was fun. Gods, somebody inform the Ministry.

She turned to him with a soft sigh. "I like these Friday night things we do," she confessed. "It's much more exciting than hearing some blind date confess that he drooled while he slept."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I think you're dating the wrong sort of men," he told her.

She threw a pillow at him. "Who are the _right_ sort of men then?" she demanded, accio'ing the remote to her and switching through the channels impatiently.

He winked suggestively at her. "Men like me."

She laughed loudly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "I don't date the banes of my existence, though I thank you for the offer," she told him solemnly. "It's bad for my reputation."

He rolled his eyes at her. "You don't date them, but you watch trashy Muggle shows with them?" he asked critically, throwing the pillow back at her.

She grinned at him. "I just like being with you, that's all," she said, accidentally switching to "Adult TV" and desperately pressing the back button in horror, her eyes wide.

What was Adult TV? Draco wondered. He'd have to check later, when Granger wasn't around.

"When I'm with you, I feel less alone," she confessed, biting her lip. "It gets lonely in these apartments, you know? Everybody knows everybody, but half of the people are either slobs, felons, or _couples._" She ground out 'couples' as if it were the worst insult of all.

Draco leaned back, stretching. "Sometimes it's better to be alone, Granger," he replied finally, matter-of-fact. "Nobody can hurt you, that way."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You are _such _a drama queen, you know that, right?"

He smirked. "You love it."

"I do," she whispered in a mockingly dreamy voice.

His only reply was to shoot her a scathing look.

ooo

"You and Granger. You're _friends._"

Draco glared at Blaise, who was guffawing, his whole frame rippling with amusement. "Yes," he said flatly, "me and Hermione Granger are friends." He shrugged as if to say 'so what?'

Blaise only laughed harder. Draco glared harder, moving around the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. _On second thoughts._ He put down the coffee mug and poured himself a Firewhiskey instead. He was going to need it.

"Oh, Salazar," Blaise whispered finally. He was grinning so wide Draco began to consider getting him committed to an asylum. That just _wasn't _normal. "You _like _her."

Draco spun around, plastering on his best horrified look. "I do not _like _her!" he protested, scandalised.

Blaise smirked. "You do. Oh my god, Draco, you've got a _crush _on Granger."

"I do _not _have a 'crush' on that_-_"

He wasn't listening. "Wait until Pans hears about this. Oh, sweet Salazar. This is brilliant."

ooo

She came to him one night, dark shadows under her eyes. He'd just been about to go to bed, but paused when he heard knocking on the door. As soon as he opened it, she fell forward.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his shirt.

He frowned down at her. "For what?" He grabbed her by the hand. "Come on." He led her into the living room and sat her on the sofa, pulling her to him.

She hiccuped. "At - at first, I only became friends with you because because - well. The Ministry. They..." she stammered, her voice cracking with emotion. "My boss said I had a golden opportunity - you were my _neighbour, _for God's sake - to reveal the true monsters of the Malfoy family."

His eyes lit with rage, and she shied back. "I told him he could go shove himself at first." She managed a watery smile. "But he threatened to fire me, and my job...my job is everything to me. It took me years to get a job as an Auror. I didn't want to just lose that." She sighed. "I told him I wouldn't do the assignment two weeks ago - I reported him, and he got fired." Smiling with bitter satisfaction, she murmured, "There are _some_ positives to being the best friend of the saviour of the wizarding world. People believe you without question."

Draco watched her warily, and she forced the tears back. She would never have come if she wasn't tired from a day's work, and had consumed two glasses of Firewhiskey after work with Ginny.

She had just felt so _guilty. _

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"So that's all this was to you?" he demanded in a whisper, not meeting her eyes. "An assignment?"

She stood up suddenly. "Of _course _not!" she cried. "I _like _you, Malfoy. You're different. You don't talk about football and Quidditch all the time like Harry and Ron, and you watch stupid TV shows with me and talk about awful dates and - " She sighed, turning to go. "Look, I'm really sorry. I should never have come."

He watched her go, heard the door click closed, and then hexed a vase.

"I can't _win_," he muttered furiously.

All the time, Blaise's voice murmured in his head, 'You _like _her. Oh my god, you have a _crush _on Granger.'

ooo

"You look like shit, mate."

Draco shot his friend a glare. "Thanks for your ever so enlightening comments," he snapped. "I don't think I could have continued without that wonderful boost to my deflated ego."

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "You could always just make up with her, you know," he suggested.

Draco scowled in contempt. "You're turning into a Hufflepuff, Zabini. Slytherins do not make _up _with people. People make _up _with _Slytherins._"

Blaise shook his head. "We're not kids, anymore, Draco," he said sharply. Outside, it was beginning to rain - Draco found this horrifically ironic. "It's time you grew up."

ooo

He was awoken in the middle of the night by the cracking of thunder, followed by blinding lightning. Grimacing, Draco crawled out of bed, glaring at the clock as it winked at him: 2:30AM.

Clambering up, he went into the bathroom and showered, shaved, cleaned his teeth (twice). Mordrid, he needed a _distraction. _He even walked into the living room and had a conversation with his inanimate microwave.

He eventually gave up and sat on his sofa, staring at the blank screen of the television. Next door, there was the soft sound of footsteps and the click of a door opening. Draco frowned, climbing to his feet. Tentatively - and stupidly - he followed the footsteps down the stairs of the apartment building, out into the rain.

It hit him in a rush, pelting him with a thousand raindrops. Granger was not far in front of him, staring up at the sky.

Her insanity is catching, he realised with a grimace. A few weeks ago, nobody would have been able to convince Draco Malfoy to stand in the middle of the pouring rain, not even Zabini.

"You look like shit, Granger," he confided in her ear.

She spun around and glowered at him. "What do you _want, _Malfoy?"

There was a short silence, broken by Draco bursting out with, "I'm sorry. You couldn't help helped what you did - your job - I don't know, Granger. Stop looking at me like that. I _do _apologise sometimes, you know."

"No, you don't."

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

Grinning, Granger looked up at him. It suddenly hit Draco that she was so close he could feel her warm breath heat up his face - so close he could...

Leaning down, he gently pressed his lips to hers. What had been intended to be a gentle kiss grew into something bigger, like those end of the world kisses, the type that the hero and heroine exchange before running off into the fight.

It was all horrificly cheesy.

"I'm sorry, too, you know," she whispered to him. "For just - everything."

It was like something off one of those sickening Muggle soaps they watched. Draco found himself wondering just exactly _what _his life had come to if he spend his free time exchanging kisses with Hermione Granger in the rain at 2AM in the morning.

"Can we go inside now?" he demanded, shivering. "I _hate _the cold."

Hermione smirked at him and ran off further into the rain, laughing loudly. "Scared, Malfoy?"

He rolled his eyes and followed her, muttering, "Why do I even bother?"


End file.
